“I’ve come to collect my prescription”
So it begins. The Mexican Stand-Off. I refuse to ask her what her name is and she refuses to tell me. The staring starts. Never breaking eye contact. Not once. Ok, maybe once when I respond to the ‘Who wants a cuppa?’ question.
I have all the time in the world. Actually, I don’t. But she doesn’t know that. She thinks she knows me. She thinks she’s the expert on me. She isn’t.
I know her name. Of course. I see her all the time. She knows that I know her name. But I shouldn’t have to ask her what her name is. If I do, she has won.
I can’t allow that to happen. I must make a stand for everyone who has ever worked in a pharmacy and been faced with the same situation. I must not surrender. Not now, not ever.
Susan the Tech: “For crying out loud Mr D. Must we go through this every time she comes in? Just give your mum her prescription and let’s get back to work, eh?”
Damn you Susan! I was sure I would win this time!